


Devil's Advocate

by Kyatto



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Control, F/M, Incest, Loss of Control, Other, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-13
Updated: 2007-07-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7999717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyatto/pseuds/Kyatto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Zuko's POV) Zuko describes life with his sister after his betrayal. His feelings towards her and what she has turned him into. (Originally written in 2007.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's Advocate

**Author's Note:**

> Devil's Advocate
> 
> By: Kyatto
> 
> Pairing: Zuko/Azula (Zucest)
> 
> Rating: (light)R
> 
> Genre: Dark/Romance
> 
> Point Of View: Zuko's (First Person)
> 
> Spoilers/Warnings: Post Season Two finale, Incest (Don't like incest, please don't complain about the story.)
> 
> Originally written in 2007.
> 
> Hope you all like!

Her eyes are gold like the sun. Enticing, and inviting in a way that could make you want to reach into them. However, much like the sun if you look too long you just get burned. Yet, no matter what I can't look away. I'm drawn to them…Drawn to her. My sister's always had that sort of way with me. She taunts me, and teases me to the point where I just want to strangle her. But I can't…no…because her voice is also smooth like silk, like velvet. It's soft and it soothes my inner rage, smothering any flame that tried to well up. I hate her but I love her. My eyes can't part from hers, her soul encased in a black demonic cocoon. She'd never let me in to see it, her very being clouded by a viciousness from somewhere I can't even describe.

She whispers sweet laments in my ear as her crimson talons rake down my chest. We lay together, for several nights now. I'm not sure how such a tradition came to be, but now it's a simple ritual. We talk. Well, I talk. However, she does listen, but doughtily pours murder down my throat—through an alembic so it would be distilled. Because murder is always pretty when pure. She paints me lateritious and malicious with her words, molding me into a creation all her own. I'm blamed for all recent failures, I'm blamed for father's displeasure, I'm blamed for my whole country's suffering. As she says such things she breaths sweetly, delicate susurrations in my ear, her hands still ever curious and playful across my body. So as painful as her words are and always have been, I let them sink in like the many marks her nails leave on my chest. Permanent for always and forever, embedded in my mind, body, and soul.

When she's done filling my head with things I wish was nonsense she is atop me. My hands bound in tight iron shackles to the bed posts, clasped above my head. It always ends up like this. My mind is too busy taking in the evil spirits she puts inside of me, so I would never notice her other ventures involving my body. There are faded pink lines across my chest and stomach, delicate scratches that are almost cat-like. However, I know they won't stay so light for long. Soon they will be deeper lacerations, blood spotting my pale flesh, tinting it all different shades of red. It's how I know she prefers to see me-beneath her and blood-soaked. I look up at her, my eyes shadowed behind the falls of my hair, but I know she can still see glimpses of gold through various parts in the blackness. My soul is bright and far from invisible. She leers down at me and crawls up along my body much like a panther stalking its prey. Her hips are pressed hard against mine, her hands on either side of my shoulders, her eyes peering into mine.

Again, she fills me with the horror from deep within her. Her darkest fantasies, what I'm sure she'll bring forth. She wants me to fail, she wants me to suffer, and she wants me to walk the graves with doomed spirits for an eternity. I know this, yet I still listen. I want to believe in something, even if it's nothing like I want to hear. I want to hear her voice, to feel her lips come dangerously close to my ear. My world is darkening day by day as she continues such torture. My rage embers but refuses to spark. It's welled deep down, never to reach its full potential. She's doing this to me on purpose; she wants me to be dark, just like her. Maybe darker. For if I'm too hopeless she can continue to take everything else from me, just as she's always done. I know all these things, yet I take it, I allow it, I want it.

Her lips touch mine and I can't take it anymore. I writhe, hearing the clatter of the metal that has me bound. My lips part for her automatically, I've learned by now to no longer resist her when she seeks entrance. As our tongues touch, the heat of our mouths intertwining and becoming one, I arch up against her hips, letting her feel me. I feel amusement in her kiss then, and she presses back tauntingly. It always winds up this way too. She'll taunt me to exhaustion but will never allow me to let go, never allow me to reach my peak or feel the true pleasure she forces my body to want. I'm always left cold, needy, and alone in the end. I've come to accept it, I've come to want it, and I've come to love it. For what little pleasure I'm allowed, I know better now than to take it for granted.

When she's finally had her fill the shackles come undone and she takes her place beside me once more. Her body is warm and relaxed, mine is cold and tense. This is how it'll always be. She's putting out my fire, my drive to achieve. She's clouding my mind, taking away my ability to love or feel the warmth at all. She's putting out the light I reach for. She wants me to be dark, cold, and powerless. I know this; I'm not blind, deaf, or dumb. I'm turning into her puppet, her obedient slave. As much damage as she's caused, as much as she's tortured me, even the fact she brought me down farther than I could ever imagine, I love her. I'm loyal to her. It's with her and her alone, with Azula, that I am home. My heart will no longer no love, my soul will no longer be pure. She can take away everything I have and everything I am but I'll still love her and stay by her side. I'll fan the flame she uses to bring upon my own destruction. For even the darkest of devils needs an advocate.

ooOooOooOooOooOoo

The End


End file.
